


Woki Mit Deim Popo

by edan_marie



Series: Eurovision 2012 [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Eurovision Song Contest 2012, Other, Polyamory, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edan_marie/pseuds/edan_marie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of preparing for the 2012 Eurovision Song Contest, Austria finds himself lumped with a homeless Prussia, and it's a Prussia desperate for his attention. Unable to deny the man's insistent requests to learn Austrian, Austria agrees to tutor him, though Prussia may well have another prank up his sleeve...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Woki Mit Deim Popo

“Austria, I’m bored.”

Every note needed to be perfect. Austria hadn’t a second to waste; there was no room for error, not here. Not when the competition was as fierce as Austria had ever seen it. He tore through the mountainous heap of sheet music on his desk, mind racing and he wrote as though in a fever, a fit of urgency to scrawl down every last note and chord soaring through his mind. Every now and then he spun round in his seat- careful to keep the wobbling, teetering stool at least somewhat balanced; he’d never resort to those childish looking ‘computer’ chairs, no matter how much Hungary insisted- to toy at the piano. Each touch was exploratory, filled with care before the sounds were committed to paper- Austria would never bother with anything less than exemplary, after all.

“Austria…”

The rest of his movements were not so careful. The moment one instrument was turned away from, Austria was leaping to his feet, a wad of paper in one hand and a quill tucked haphazardly over his ear as he darted across the room to where the rest of his musical tools lay in wait. A cello that thrummed beneath his fingers; the golden, curving arch of a harp that yielded at his call, singing at his touch. The violin had a whisper of greatness about it when Austria took it up in his hands; a breath of potential waiting to be released and a smile curved Austria’s lips at that, as he hastened further with notes.

“I have rights, you know. And I’m sure this treatment violates several of them.”

Next in Austria’s mind was the silver flute whose case rested upon the mantelpiece. The orchestra in Austria’s mind still grew, endless and swelling far beyond the limits of mere mortal imagination, and yet Austria knew he ought to be more careful. Too many instruments and each piece would be lost in an ocean of sound, chaotic and wrought with disharmony. Beyond the cello and the violin, the piano and the harp, the cherubic choir, the flute must be the final piece. He lifted the flute from its case, brought it to his lips as he set down his sheet music where he could reach, and delved into the far reaches of his mind for the right notes. They came to the surface within moments, guiding his hands and he began to play-

“Austria.”

\- and it all sounded _wrong_. Artificial; the notes felt too sharp, too harsh, and Austria’s heart sank. What was this? There was no time for calamity! Hastening for his quill, Austria cut one thick black line through the outlines he had just prepared and thought frantically for some fresh inspiration. He brought a hand to his temples; the skin there was slick with perspiration and spots of ink. He sighed.

“Seriously?!”

Austria needed an answer; needed a way to resolve this situation before his progress could be further delayed and his chances ruined-

Of course. How could Austria have forgotten? He went to rake a hand through his hair, half uncaring of the mess though he caught himself, just, and abandoned the flute as he raced across the room. Native America had presented him with it only months before; a gift from one of the Plains nations, her many daughters, after he had complimented the songs of their people. Native America had risen to prominence only in recent years, Austria knew, her patience having run itself thin by her younger brother America’s antics, never mind all of Europe tearing her nations to shreds in their eager greed. America still refused to talk to her.

Austria supposed himself lucky to have befriended her. As he drew nearer to that which he sought, he spied the flute hanging by a leather cord, and he smiled to himself. In his hands, the flute was smooth and warm to the touch. Whittled from bird bones- falcon, Austria recalled- the flute looked so simple, so humble, against all the exquisite extravagance of a classic orchestra.

Austria sucked in a breath, bringing the flute to his lips-

“ _Austria, I swear to God-_ ”

and began to play. Magic, at once, fell across the room. The notes that had sounded so wrong, so brittle coming from Austria’s usual flute sounded natural here. More than natural; they were ethereal, haunting, raising the hairs on Austria’s neck and down his arms. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? For goodness’ sake, there was a Native woman who played near every day only some streets away- Shoshone, perhaps, Austria thought; he had become quite adept at recognizing all the different languages in the Native songs from talking to Native America- who could take on the sole position that Austria had planned for the flute. If he worked fast, he could even alter the arrangement of the piece, see to it that everything flowed in perfect harmony with this fresh inspiration-

“Specs!”

Austria started. He jolted forward, elbow knocking into the inkpot beside him- since he had begun this composition, he had taken to leaving inkpots within easy reach of all the instruments, to save all the time of finding tools with which to jot down chords and other notes- and before he could even move, the pot tipped, spilling thick black all over the crimson rug underfoot. Austria blinked. He twisted round, shaking his head gingerly as though to clear his thoughts. He looked up, to the source of that startling noise.

Prussia. Of course. Sprawled across Austria’s favourite armchair and making himself thoroughly at home, too, with his feet- still in those sodden, wretched muddy trainers- crossed over at the ankles and perched comfortably on the armrest. As Austria stared, Prussia grinned, fingers waggling in a mischievous wave and Austria shook his head again. In all the excitement of composing for this year’s Eurovision Song Contest, Austria had quite forgotten his late night visitor. Now, he could only stare, as the unbroken quiet continued.

Prussia’s grin twisted into a smirk. “I’m bored.” He pouted, huffing exaggeratedly and rolling his eyes, but Austria was expressionless. He could only stand and stare, impassive and only just biting his tongue to hold back the tide of exasperation and patience stretched far too thin that Prussia always managed to inevitably arouse.

Eventually Austria found the will to calm his internal strife, enough to retort, “Well, what do you possibly expect _me_ to do?”, with all his anger now gone to utter bewilderment. Over the years he had become rather expert at disguising such confusion when faced with Prussia- the man would only find some way to exploit such a vulnerability, after all, if made aware of it- but right now, he knew better than to expect an end to Prussia’s mischief. Prussia had always been a wily one, an overgrown child desperate for some scrap of attention, and now that Austria had given it, Prussia would not be easily willing to release him.

As though cementing that final thought, Prussia’s eyebrows quirked in a wordless question and he groaned, twisting over onto his stomach- Austria wincing as the armchair squeaked in protest- and he kicked his legs out and fixed Austria with some faux tormented look. “Have some imagination, Specs.” He pleaded, his lower lip jutted out and trembling slightly as though he was on the verge of tears. Austria was not so easily convinced. “Let’s play a game! Discuss the economic future of the Euro, bet on Britain’s Eurovision chances in the next century, _anything_! This is no way to treat a guest.”

Austria rolled his eyes. “You were hardly invited.” He muttered, and Prussia gave him a wounded look.

“So if Hungary wasn’t so kind, you’d have left me to die out on the streets?” A challenging gleam showed in his eyes- one Austria knew wasn’t genuine, but all the same. He resisted the itch to return the look with a glare of his own.

“She’s our girlfriend. That does not mean you’re welcome here whenever you get into trouble.” He replied, tone gone terse with his impatience, and Prussia spluttered.

“West kicked me out! I didn’t have anywhere else to go!” He exclaimed, and at that Austria fixed him with a cold stare.

“That was your own fault. Germany is under no obligation to take care of you, particularly when you endanger international peace for the sake of your own amusement.”

Prussia scoffed at him. “Please, that uptight bastard got what he deserved. And he chose to get involved!” He added, almost as an afterthought but Austria refused to be drawn in by Prussia’s childishness. And childish he looked, as Austria watched him for a moment. Tugging at his hair and curling it around his fingers as he pouted and narrowed his eyes at the floor- if his behaviour wasn’t so like that of one great, silly child, Austria would have almost thought Prussia looked rather fetching, draped across the armchair and looking almost- though Austria would never dare admit it- as though he belonged there. The thought made something jolt inside Austria, some unfamiliar warmth pricking across his skin and tightening his chest.

Or rather, the feeling wasn’t unfamiliar, Austria mused. More, it was the _stimulus_.

But he forced that thought aside as Prussia lifted his eyes again to gaze expectantly up at him. By now Austria should have berated Prussia for such a disrespectful accusation, for the use of such obscene language. That he hadn’t was new, and more than that, it was startling. Child that he was, Prussia was still intelligent, and centuries of strategic warfare had done their part well in sharpening his strikingly perceptive nature. Austria hastened to speak.

“Britain could hardly choose _not_ to get involved.” He blustered, and with the memory behind the words some of his old anger returned, launching him into his stride. “You were moments away from claiming London as your own.” He continued, and Prussia snickered, with no remorse.

“He said his defences were too good for me to get past! You know me, Specs, he practically _dared_ me to try it.” Laughter, unexpected and warm, bubbled in Austria’s chest; typically Hungary was the one to find some strange amusement in Prussia’s antics, and Austria only just managed to quell his own sudden merriment in time to speak, astonished by his own behaviour. What was the matter with him?

Austria shook his head, clearing his mind of those thoughts. Whatever was happening to him- whatever attraction he was developing towards Prussia- was utterly irrelevant. Right now, with the matter at hand, was where Austria's focus needed to be. Hastening to push aside those newer feelings, then, Austria retorted, "I believe you'll find his intention was not to dare you but to _warn_ you." There was some unexpected anger coiling in Austria's chest; whatever its target, it turned his voice icy, enough that Prussia stiffened where he lay. Unmoved, Austria continued briskly. "Furthermore, as I recall, his defences _were_ too good for you to break past."

The moment those words had left his lips, Austria turned away, gaze affixed to the sheet music scattered all across his desk- and, thankfully, unspoiled by the spill of ink; the one positive occurrence of the night, Austria felt. He stepped closer to the desk, forcing himself to focus once more on the composition that already brought fresh waves of calm just in memory, and yet just as he lowered himself to sit, to begin work once more, Prussia's quiet murmurs dissolved into one particularly petulant outburst.

"You're supposed to be on _my_ side, Specs!"

Austria spun round, fixing Prussia with a blistering look.

"I'm supposed to be _working_." He snapped, and Prussia flinched. Only a minute movement, but visible enough that Austria could release some of the tension he felt running taut all through his body. Heaven knew, it could only be a good sign when Prussia began to back off. Austria wondered how much could be gained from such a submissive Prussia; when he next spoke, his voice had turned unexpectedly soft. "You know very well how dear you are to Hungary's heart- and I know she's loved equally by you and I. Given the state of our affairs, then, neither of us would turn you away if you were truly in need." Austria's expression hardened fractionally. "But," he continued, tone crisp, "we are _not_ your personal charity, and you would do well to remember that."

Prussia snorted. Eyes narrowing, as he scowled Austria's way, though Austria seemed unaffected by the expression, and Prussia rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Specs." He snarled. "You know I don't see either of you as some kind of charity."

Austria raised his eyebrows. "Well, if you honestly respect Hungary and I, then you can desist with that awful nickname." He retorted, and Prussia blinked.

"What, Specs?" He inquired, in some piping, innocent tones, and Austria gave him a long look. Whether genuinely curious, or simply toying with the older man, there was no telling with Prussia. Rather than try to determine which it could possibly be this time, Austria only bit back a sigh and pressed on.

"If you choose to make use of our hospitality, then it's only fair that we're allowed to expect something of you in return." Austria paused, looking to Prussia as though in expectation of protest, but Prussia said nothing, and so Austria went on. "Now, I have no desire to involve myself in Britain's affairs, nor indeed _any_ kind of foreign politics. My only desire is for my work to be done, and for people to be out of my way while I do it.

"Hungary prefers that the company we keep, the people we invite into our home, are a little more moral. We took you in tonight as you had nowhere else to go; our resources can't stretch between three forever, and if Germany is to take you in again, you need to apologise to Britain for your behaviour."

Prussia looked as though Austria had just told him he needed to tear off his own testicles.

"But- but he _deserved_ -" Austria silenced Prussia's spluttering with one hand raised, unexpectedly overtaken with fatigue. When he lifted his eyes to glance up at the clock on the wall opposite, the time showed half three in the morning. Austria bit back a sigh. While the embodiments of nations didn't often experience all those mundane human needs, such as sleep, it was still disheartening to say the least, to know that so many hours had been lost to taking care of Prussia in the aftermath of all his latest antics. Dawn was in little more than a couple of hours; there was little point retiring to bed now.

Resigned, then, Austria returned his gaze to his desk, as he settled into the arduous task of bringing the heap of sheet music into some semblance of order.

On the other side of the room, Prussia had fallen into a contemplative hush. Studying the other man, that much Austria could tell without looking, before Prussia swung his legs off of the armrest and sat up straight. Raking one hand through his silver-white hair before, with a proprietary sounding clearing of his throat, he spoke.

"I'll apologise to the Tommy for breaking his stupid defences," he declared, suddenly, "though, really, I was doing him a _favour_ by making him realize he needed a better defence system. He should be thanking me." Austria raised his eyebrows, saying nothing, and Prussia hurried to continue. "I said I'd apologise! But," he added, tone now gone deceptively light, "I'll stick around here for a few days, first."

Austria stared. His work abandoned, eyes cold with a quiet challenge, and for a moment, the two only met each other's eyes with no words.

In the end, Prussia was first to submit.

"Fine." He groaned, averting his eyes, and Austria swallowed the satisfied smile that threatened to stitch its way across his face. Stubborn as Prussia may have been, his defiance was like that of some bratty teenage boy, and his strength proved to be about the same. He was, Austria thought with a small smile, not really that hard a person to bend, even if he never knew when to quit with all his pranks and schemes.

Austria watched Prussia still, patient and in wait until, finally- sensing the other's unwavering gaze- Prussia dropped his voice to a question.

"Can I stay here for a few days?"

The smile in Austria grew ever wider, the temptation to let it show increasing; he allowed only a sliver of it to show as he deliberated, though there was no denying the frisson that danced down his spine as he dragged out the seconds in some inexorable wait. It was a novel feeling, certainly not an unpleasant one, wielding such power over Prussia like this, holding the man completely at his mercy. Austria could do anything to him. He could refuse; he could turn Prussia away right this moment to find his own temporary home, and he wouldn't have to waste another second caring for him. Austria didn't _need_ to let him stay.

He didn't need to but he would. For one thing, if Austria tried to turn Prussia away now, he'd only turn and run to Hungary, and she would never forgive Austria for refusing Prussia a place in their home. When it came to her boyfriends, Hungary had yet to indicate anything other than love equal for them both, and a poly relationship, as she would often say, took a great deal of work. Especially when the people involved were the personifications of three different nations. (Or rather, two different countries and an ex-nation.) A relationship such as theirs could never work if Prussia and Austria were unable to even treat each other with respect.

And besides... Austria had grown quite used to the arrangement- he was, dare he say it, rather fond of it. Putting aside for the time being his own growing- bewildering- attraction to Prussia, he couldn't find it in himself to risk bringing this relationship to an end- and more than that, he could never bring himself to deny Hungary her happiness.

Austria smiled. The expression was a gentle one, and Prussia started where he sat at the sight of it. His gaze turned questioning, and Austria met his eyes directly. "You may stay." He told Prussia, and at once the ex-nation beamed, striking the air triumphantly with his fist as he leapt to his feet.

"Yes! Specs, you are the _best_!" He exclaimed, and Austria only waved off the compliment. Despite the sound of that intolerable nickname, he couldn't quite keep a smile at bay any longer, and as the expression etched its way across his face, he turned away from Prussia so that the other man might not see- though the former nation would not be so easily dissuaded. He bounded across the room over to where Austria sat, paying no mind to the way the floorboards groaned and squealed in protest to the movement, and the moment he was within reach, he leaned across and playfully ruffled the older man's hair. Austria jumped at the unexpected touch, a wordless cry leaping from his lips as his hands flew to repair the damage that Prussia had done, but it was too late. His hair had gone entirely askew.

Austria groaned, face falling into his hands. Prussia was rather less sympathetic to his plight, quaking at Austria's side as he dissolved into laughter, and Austria grumbled an incoherent complaint. Prussia took Austria's shoulder in his hand at that, in some small show of commiseration though his wheezes had rather the opposite effect. Austria only sighed, and Prussia made a sympathetic sound. His touch shifted, fingers tracing absent patterns through Austria's silken black tangle of hair, and Austria gave up entirely.

"You are something else, Specs." Prussia gasped, stuttering still with the remnants of his laughter. "You are _something else_."

**Author's Note:**

> Halfway through writing the first chapter, I went back to see the original video for the Austrian Eurovision entry in 2012, and I noticed some cultural appropriation with one of the singers wearing a Native American headdress. This was after I'd written Austria's friendship with Native America, so... that's definitely going to come up in later chapters. I don't know if there's any real history between Austria and Native American nations, but I thought it'd be interesting to explore the original America, and what relationships she might have with other countries. (Her characterization doesn't follow what's said of her in the fan-character wikia, though.)


End file.
